


A Match Made In Curtain Area 2

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Drunk Derek, Drunken Flirting, M/M, Mild Blood, Socially Awkward Derek, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1508141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My idiot brother over here thought that it’d be a great idea to try to back flip off the dinner table after getting completely pissed. And he almost managed it too!” Ah yes. Nothing completes the whole ‘Full moon’s bring the nuttiness out in people for some reason’ ER experience than drunk idiots trying stupid things.<br/>--</p><p>All human AU where Stiles is a doctor at BH Memorial Hospital and Derek comes in drunk, in need of stitches. There's drunken flirting, meddling siblings and curious co-workers involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Match Made In Curtain Area 2

**Author's Note:**

> A very special, very huge thanks to notapassingfancy for helping out with the medical side of this fic <3 And this fic is also for Cor [who made this gif set](http://teamsciles.tumblr.com/post/55961940505) when I begged her to. She’s totally the Dylan to my T-Pose. <3 And I’m borrowing the Hale family members from thelovelylights’s AU cause ngl I love her fancasting p-r-e-t-t-y damned hard.

It’s sheer dumb luck that Stiles manages to screech to a halt right before the pale looking guy heaves the entire contents of his stomach all over the floor. Stiles makes a face at the floor before yelling down the busy corridor, “Can someone tell Jimmy that we need a clean up in the hall?”  
  


Erica’s voice floats out of Exam Room 01. “Tell him yourself.” How he loves the people he works with. Stiles takes a wide step over the mess, goes to get the man a vomit dish and hopefully he’ll find Jimmy along the way.   
  


It’s well past midnight, the full moon is out and the crazies apparently have decided that Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital’s ER is  _the place_  to be at. ‘ _I hate my life.’_  Stiles grumbles when Lydia announces that there’s a trauma coming in in 15. Just what they need! Yet  _another_ trauma when they’re already slammed! Or well, that’s not the worst part. That would be the group of 15 moaning in the hallway because of food poisoning.   
  


Stiles makes a mental note to avoid Al’s Pancake World twice as hard from now on, glancing up at the entrance when the doors are pushed open. A trio of brunettes are stumbling in, two of them holding up a limp figure between them. The woman is grumbling under her breath, hefting the unconscious man up a little higher while the tattooed guy on the other side yells, “Some help please?”  
  


He immediately makes a bee line for them, frowning when he realizes that the guy in the middle isn’t unconscious because he’s slurring, “I dun need any help.” Oh lovely, a drunk guy who hurt himself if the blood dripping down his chin is anything to go by. Stiles wonders what act of stupidity the dude’s engaged in.  _'Don't let it be anything more complicated than sutures.'_ He pleads to the heavens.  
  


"I got it." Stiles look over towards the Scott who is manning the desk. "What’s open, Scott?" He asks, ducking down as he tries to get an idea of what’s up with his patient.   
  


As soon as his best friend has yelled out ‘Curtain Area 2’, Stiles is leading the trio over towards the empty bed. He winces when the girl hip checks the bed and curses, “Shit! Watch it Aidan!”   
  


"Watch yourself Laura." Tattooed guy rolls his eyes, helping the second man onto the bed. "My idiot brother over here thought that it’d be a great idea to try to back flip off the dinner table after getting _completely_   _pissed_. And he almost managed it too!” Ah yes. Nothing completes the whole ‘Full moon’s bring the nuttiness out in people for some reason’ ER experience than drunk idiots trying stupid things.  
  


"Except the part where he banged his head pretty hard coming down." Laura finishes with a loud laugh that makes Aidan’s face go through a complicates series of expressions that makes Stiles fear that he might pull a muscle.  
  


It doesn’t stop him from eyeing the both of them warily because who knows how crazy they are if they’re laughing after their brother got hurt. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol talking? They seem pretty drunk too… “Anyways!” Laura slaps her hands against her hips. “He was bleeding a lot so we thought we’d bring him here!”  
  


She gives Backflip Guy a sharp poke in the arm that makes him yelp loudly. Stiles stares at his face and wonders why he’s got glitter, confetti, blood and… is that cake? Why does the guy have  _cake_  smooshed all over his face? And those  _cannot_ be tiny dick’s printed on the bloodied napkin stuck to the guy’s head.  
  


"It  _figures_ that you found some way to spoil my bachelorette party. Totally uncool, baby bro.” The girl continues, waving her hands in the air. “I kept telling you that trying that jump was a dumb idea but you never listen!”  
  


_'Ah family'_ , Stiles thinks dryly, moving between the girl and his patient. “Did he black out after hitting his head?” He asks, trying not to make a face when he has to touch Backflip Guy’s sticky face before flashing his pen light across his eyes. Pupils are equal and reactive, that’s good. And they’re seriously,  _seriously_ pretty.”Can you follow my finger please?” He asks.  
  


Stiles holds his finger up and is very briefly scared that the very power of the man’s glare is going to set his finger on fire. With a loud huff that clearly says that he finds this whole thing to be a waste of time, Backflip Guy follows the progress of Stiles’ finger before he crosses his arms across his chest.   
  


"I don’t think so." The girl replies in the meanwhile, swaying slightly as she walks around the bed to lean against Aidan. "He kept whining the whole ride here that we didn’t need to go to the hospital." An unwilling patient, it just kept getting better and better.  
  


"Well, I didn’t!" Backflip Guy complains from the bed. Stiles ignores him in favor of peeling away the bloodied paper napkin away from the guy’s head. Uuugh, it’s the bad kind of sticky. With one finger on the guy’s chin (is that stubble under all that cake?), Stiles prompts him to turn his head towards the light so that he can get a good idea of what the wound looks like. "Laura! Tell the guy I don’t need to be checked out."  
  


"Yes, you do." Stiles cuts in distractedly. He can’t be sure because of the mess on the guy’s face but it looks like a deep cut on his forehead. "It’s possible that you could have a concussion or worse. You did the right thing by bringing him here." He picks up the man’s wrist and does a quick check of his pulse before letting it go, with a quick note that his body temperature is a little high.  _'Better ask Abby to check his temperature too.'_  
  


Aidan looks very pleased with himself. Laura lets out a loud, “HA!” of triumph while Backflip Guy looks like a kid whose playground privileges just got revoked. Stiles tries not to smile because with the guy’s muscles, it’s possible that he might punch Stiles for being amused at his expense. “You’re lucky that you got off with just a cut on the head.” Stiles continues, wiping his finger clean on the sheets again. “All you need are some stitches and you’re good to go.”   
  


That and maybe a banana bag. No Stiles isn’t saying that just because he wants to get his hands on those impressive looking forearms. He’s a good doctor who wants the best for his patients. Yep. “I just need to go get something to clean your face up with and get the stuff for the stitches set up.”  
  


Turning to look at the siblings, Stiles points at a few empty seats in the waiting area. “You sit over there and wait. It shouldn’t take too long.”  
  


Laura makes a displeased face before forward to give her younger brother a hug that leaves a big smear of cake-glitter-blood on her shirt. When her embrace turns this side of desperate, Stiles quietly steps back and pulls the curtain close. It’s not quick enough to miss out on Aidan patting her back before running a hand through the younger man’s hair. “Don’t scare us like that again Derek.” Aidan’s quiet words make Derek press his cheek harder into Laura’s shoulder.  
  


Family. There really isn’t anything like it. He decides to take the long route in finding a towel, filling a plastic kidney ball with some water and asking one of the nurses to set up a suture kit please and thanks. All together it takes him about 10 minutes more than it should and  _God,_ he hopes that Dr. Harris doesn’t jump out of the shadows and tell him that he’s being incompetent and lazy  _again_ and therefore has to spend another three weeks working nights in the ER.  
  


Thankfully, no evil Dr.Harris pounces on him during his meanderings and Stiles makes it back to the curtained bed in one piece. The food poisoning party has been busy while he was dealing with Derek and his siblings and poor Erica’s the one having to deal with them. Stiles had ran past her, yelling, “Can’t stop! People to stitch up!” and had almost slipped into a vomit pile in his haste.  
  


"Alright!" Stiles declares cheerfully, pulling the curtain back with one hand before steps forward. Derek’s leaning back against the raised bed, eyeing the suture kit distrustfully. "Lets get you cleaned up." The doctor declares, ignoring Derek’s glare as he plops down on the stool and rolls forward towards the bed.   
  


First things first. Stiles snaps a pair of gloves on and picks up the syringe filled with saline before picking up the emesis basin as well. The nurse has already removed that bloodied napkin from Derek’s head ( _thank_ God) so all he really has to do is clean up. “This might sting.” Stiles warns, holding the basin under the wound.  
  


"Just do it." Derek grumbles. Barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes, Stiles begins to irrigate the wound. He catches the quick jerk that goes through Derek’s body and mumbles an apology under his breath. Stiles does his best to wash the wound clean as fast as he can, patting away a few stray drops that miss the bowl with some gauze. "So." He begins, trying to make conversation and avoid looking at the weird mix of saline-blood-glitter that’s floating around in the bowl in his hands. "Your sister’s getting married huh?"  
  


Derek’s sigh makes him wonder if there’s anything wrong in that innocent question. “Three days from now.”   
  


Hmm, that might be the wedding that his dad had gotten an invitation to. Maybe. “You guys close?” Stiles asks, leaning in to check if he’s managed to get all the glitter out. Nope, still some stubborn silvery sparkles stuck in the wound. Stupid glitter. Herpes of the craft world indeed.   
  


"I guess so." Derek shrugs lightly, "She pretty much makes my life hell, I do my best to make her miserable in return. Is that being close?"  
  


Stiles snorts, quickly hiding his laugh against the crook of his arm before replying, “Wouldn’t know. I’m an only child.”  
  


"Lucky." The man sighs enviously. "Laura made me wish I was an only child lots of times."  
  


"Are you the youngest then?" Stiles asks, spraying some more saline into the wound before making a mad grab for some gauze. Right before a bloody drop of saline is absorbed by Derek’s shirt, Stiles manages to wipe it away with the gauze. Ha, take  _that!_  
  


Derek holds up his hand, frowning at his fingers as he counts. “Aidan’s the oldest. Laura’s the second oldest. Then there’s me. Cora after me. An’ Emily’s the youngest.”  
  


Middle child then. Stiles wonders what it must be like to be part of a big family and thinks, ‘ _Na_ ’. He’s happier being the only kid. He doubts he could ever get the hang of sharing his things. He’s past 25 and  _still_ can’t bring himself to share a bag of chips. Except with Scott, cause Scott is his bro.  
  


And it looks like he’s finally got the cut cleaned. Can he send someone a letter expressing his extreme dislike for glitter and how it sticks to everything like a stubborn, clingy ex? Maybe say the manufacturers of glitter? Creator of glitter? A stationary shop? “I’m gonna clean up the rest of you now.” Stiles warns, dipping the hand towel into the water.  
  


Derek raises his shoulders up to his ears in a careless shrug before sighing like he’s doing Stiles a favor. “Sure. Whatever.”

 

With that ringing endorsement  Stiles begins to wipe Derek’s face clean. He starts with the chin area because he wants to know if his guess about the stubble was correct or not. And 10 points to him, there is stubble! A _lot_ of neatly trimmed stubble that feels nice under his hand. And has collected a lot of glitter and cake.  
  


Stiles finds himself blinking in surprise as he wipes more and more of the mess away because  _wow_. Derek’s  _hot_. Like, ovaries exploding, pants dropping, underwear burning, take me now _please_  kind of hot! Stiles almost drops the towel and cheers that he’s got a hot patient. Almost. His body does a weird spasm thing that makes Derek eye him and give him the single most judgement eyebrow raise Stiles has ever seen (and that is  _saying something_ okay? He’s friends with  _Jackson_! Or well, acquaintances. No wait. Make that frenimies.)   
  


"Are you okay?" Derek asks, scratching a patch of glitter off his cheek before he leans in with a squint. "You look kinda weird. You should see a doctor. Hey doc!" Stiles yelps when Derek leans away, almost falling off the bed too, grabbing the curtain. "We need a doctor over here!"  
  


"Christ, I hate drunks!" Stiles complains under his breath as he drags Derek back into the bed. "I don’t need to see a doctor!" He tells the older man, telling himself that no, he’s not blushing because of the seriously intense stare that’s being directed his way. It’s… probably the AC. That’s turned off. In November. Yep.  
  


The clink and rattle of the curtain being pulled back abruptly makes Stiles skid slightly in his seat. Scott pops his head in to ask, “Someone yell for a doctor?” The polite but warm smile on his best friend’s face was a welcome sight to see.  
  


Derek flapped a hand at Scott. “This guy needs to see a doctor. He’s all pale but then went red and is kinda weird.” Stiles sweeps the dirty towel up, tosses it into the bowl and drops it on the side table before giving Derek a dirty look. He didn’t think that Derek would be semi-observant despite his drunkenness. When Scott directs a questioning look his way, Stiles simply mimes downing a glass before changing his gloves and pulling the suture kit forward.  
  


"How about I stay here and keep an eye on him?" Scott offers, beaming at Derek as he comes to stand on the other side of the bed. Derek makes a strange face that Stiles ignores because nooooo, how can a guy even make frowning look so good looking? Life isn’t fair!   
  


Grumbling to himself, Stiles pulls the wrapping off the suture material and wonders if he can someone convince Scott not to read too much into what Derek’s just told him. “Maybe you should check out my abs.” Derek states firmly.  
  


The suddenly comment makes Stiles blink down at the needle, look up and stare at Derek, give Scott a confused look and then back at Derek. “Uuuuh…. Are you… experiencing any abdominal pain?” Stiles tells himself to stay professional and on task. There’s a good chance that maybe Derek’s actually got a stomach ache or something. Who knows right?  
  


Stiles jerks back slightly, and Scott forward, when Derek pushes up and begins to pull his shirt off. Oh  _holy mother of cream cheese, those_   **abs**! “Only every day at the gym.” Derek declares a little too loudly, tossing his shirt away as though it had personally offended him. Hell! Stiles is offended with that shirt! It might be a lovely wine color but it’s been hiding  _that body_ from the rest of the world! That  _has_ to be a criminal offence or something!  
  


Someone else pulls the curtains back, making Stiles start so badly that he nearly falls off his spin stool. He stares up at Laura, who is looking at Derek before declaring, “Guess you already found out about how Derek like to strip when he’s drunk.” She declares, grinning like a shark that’s smelled blood. “Congratulations! That means he likes you!”  
  


The noise that comes out of his throat is barely human and completely mortified. Like, ground open up and swallow me whole levels of mortified because he can see Lydia peeked in from over Laura’s shoulder before raising her eyebrows in an impressed manner. “Doc.” Derek complains, shifting on the bed in a way that shows off all of his magnificent, flexing muscles. “You’re not gonna check my abs out?”  
  


"I’m checking them out alright." Stiles blurts out without thinking before immediately turning red. Scott is looking at him like he’s looking at a car crash that’s rapidly turning into a 10 car pile up. Laura however, looks more and more gleeful before she breaks down laughing. "I mean. I uhhh…  _crap_.” Stiles groans, giving up and smacking a fist against his forehead and generally just hiding his face like that. It’s more manly than covering his face with both hands okay?!  
  


Laura’s laughter has managed to catch not only Lydia’s attention but also Erica’s, which makes Stiles’ circle of humiliation complete. Especially when Erica lets out a wolf whistle at the sight of Derek’s chest.  _Christ,_ what is wrong with her?! Does she  _want_ the hospital to get slapped with a sexual harassment case?!  ”No one told me there was a party going on here.” She leered at Derek and then at Stiles.  
  


Stiles wonders what he’s done wrong in his past to deserve this when Derek’s arm wraps around his shoulder, pulling the man half way into the bed with a flail that nearly results in Stiles stabbing the guy in the arm with the needle. Nearly. What happens instead is Stiles kind of faceplants on Derek's chest. Right next to a perky nipple. “Go away.” Derek complains at their audience, giving them all an impressive glare.

 

He’d agree except he’s got his face kind of smooshed against Derek's hard pec. Mmm, Stiles might not want to lea-

 

Pressing his hands firmly against Derek’s body (hnnnngh oh sweet  _God_ those felt good), Stiles straightens up, pretends that his face isn’t redder than a tomato and declares, “Scott, you mind taking over?” Without looking back, Stiles begins to shoo the others away. “And you guys! Back to where you came from!”  
  


Erica and Lydia look like they’re ready to argue but Laura is two steps ahead of them. She claps a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and declares, “I like you. You should come to the reception on Saturday. You know where the Hale house is right?” Who doesn’t. It’s not that big of a town, the Hales are a big family and everyone seems to know at least two Hales if they’ve lived in Beacon Hills for more than a year. Stiles nods dumbly and gets smacked on the shoulder again, which,  _ow!_  Laura's a hell lot more stronger than she looks. “Great! See you then! And bring a gift!” Laura chips, sauntering back to where Aidan is making several complicated gestures that look like ‘who the hell threw up on the rooftop?’ to Stiles.  
  


Stiles holds up a finger, points at Laura’s back and asks, “What just happened?” He cringes at the loud guffaw that comes from where Laura and Aidan are sitting and gives his friends a beseeching look that asks for deliverance from all this embarrassment.  
  


"I think she just set you up with her brother cause he’s too drunk to ask you out." Erica states, glancing at Lydia before asking, "Right?"  
  


The red head nods, pats Stiles’ arm consolingly. “It could be worse.” Stiles gives her a look that’s supposed to say ‘HOW?’.   
  


—  
  


It’s gotten worse. Stiles tries to hide his body and the dark unhappy cloud hanging over his head behind his champagne glass. Too bad that the centrepiece is too small to hide behind…  
  


"What’s eating you?" The curious inquiry makes Stiles raise his head out of his Fortress of Misery a.k.a his arms and squint up at the person talking to him. Oh hey, it’s Isaac! Scott’s friend, Isaac!  
  


Stiles waves a hand in the general direction of where he’s last caught a glimpse of Derek and grumbles, “Nothing’s eating me.”  
  


Rolling his eyes, the curly haired man drops down in the empty seat next to Stiles. “And I’m the Queen of England. Come on, spill. What’s got you looking so miserable that no one’s sitting with you?”  
  


Making a frowny face at Isaac, Stiles finishes off his drink before slamming the glass down. “Why would I be miserable?” He asks darkly. “I’m just attending a wedding cause the bride asked me out cause she wanted to set me up with her brother cause  _he_ was too drunk but not  _that_ undrunk that he didn’t hit on me in front of the entire night shift of the ER but drunk  _enough_ that he doesn’t remember me  _or_ how he asked me to check his abs out!”  
  


Even he feels a little breathless after his rant but it’s got nothing on the bewildered look that’s spread over Isaac’s face. “That’s…” He begins carefully. “You’re talking about Derek I’m guessing?” Stiles makes a ‘duh’ gesture with both hands before he pulls his tie clean off. Ugh, damn thing’s like a noose around his check. “He hit on you when he was drunk?”  
  


"It was like a scene from a gay porno." Stiles declares a little too loudly, making someone behind him choke and splutter. His own words make him pause for a moment before he corrects himself. " _He_ looked like he’d stepped out of a gay porno too. Cuz glitter. And cake. Except the blood part anyways.” There’s that choking noise again. He hopes that no one’s gonna need CPR or first aid at the wedding.  
  


Isaac looks like he’s about to burst into laughter at any second now, which is mildly confusing because what’s funny about gay porno’s? Besides the hilariously cheesy dialogues and the wet TP thin plot and… where was he going with this thought anyways? “That good looking huh?” Isaac asks in a wobbly voice. Heh, that’s a funny word. Wobbly. Stiles might be a  _teeny tiny bit_ drunk right now.  
  


“ _So_ good looking.” Stiles sighs, propping his chin up on his hand while he stares dreamily at the dance floor. If he tries hard enough, he can still recall the feel of Derek’s muscles under his hands, his soft stubble and those  _pretty, pretty_ eyes of his. If only his sober personality hadn’t been so damned…  _prickly_! Ugh.   
  


Stiles has been at the Reception-That-Doesn’t-Look-Like-It’s-Ever-Going-To-End for three hours now and Derek hasn’t exchanged more than ten words with him. But he _has_ shot Stiles many a dark looks. Just thinking about their second meeting makes Stiles groan and drop his head onto the table. “ _Why_ is he such a grouch?!” Stiles whines to Isaac, thumping his head a few times for good measure.  
  


Right after arriving, Stiles had checked the large crowd for any familiar faces and as luck had had it, he’d seen Derek first. So, with a happy smile, Stiles had walked over to the man and given him a happy “Hey Derek!”.

 

Only to be given a confused frown in return, along with a judgemental heavy "Do I know you?"  
  


Cue Derek’s younger sister bouncing and clinging to him like a limpet, declaring “You  _must_ be Stiles! You’re cuter in person.” Which, as it turns out, Laura had taken a few pictures of him when he hadn’t been looking. Stiles is sure that there’s laws about those kind of things! “Derek! This that doctor who hit on when you were drunk!” She beams at her older brother while pressing up against Stiles.  
  


Cue embarrassment for Stiles and frowny-disbelief for Derek and several hours of ‘Lets just avoid each other and glare at the nice doctor from across the dance floor in the hopes that he might catch fire’. Stiles may or may not be bitter than he had gotten his hopes up before coming.   
  


He whines and rubs his head into the really nice and soft creamy table cloth when Isaac pats his back. “He always gets grouchy when he’s nervous.” Isaac soothes him. The man is an angel. Stiles can understand why he and Scott get along so well. “Especially when he’s around people he likes.”  
  


Raising his head up to squint at Isaac, Stiles asks. “So, what you’re saying is that he acts like an asshole when he likes someone? Way to send mixed signals!” And  _again_  that weird choking noise, what the hell. Stiles turns around to see who the Hell is having so much trouble eating when he sees Derek standing right behind him.   
  


Derek Hale is standing right behind him, pink cheeked and looking borderline homicidal. ‘ _It was nice knowing you world_ ’, Stiles thinks to himself before hissing at Isaac. “Why didn’t you tell me he was standing there?!”  
  


"Whoops." The crafty cherub declared with mock innocence. Screw angel. Isaac was a total devil in disguise. "Hey Derek, why don’t you take my seat. I’m gonna see where Emily is. Bye. Try not to mess this up now." And with that terrible excuse and ‘advice’, Isaac disappears into the crowd. Stiles hates this whole crowd - they’re sneaky and evil and he always winds up to be the butt of their jokes.  
  


Nancy Sinatra wraps up her song eventually, making way for Taylor Swift to belt some pop music out that brings several couples out on the floor to ‘shake their thang’. Stiles stares at the dance floor and tries to see how many feet he can count in the space of one Taylor Swift song. He’s on 34 when Derek blurts out, “I’m sorry. About before. And what I said.”  
  


Because Stiles is an asshole, just a tiny bit really but he wants to return the pain that’s been doled out to him okay, he asks, “You mean when I came here and you brushed me off or when you hit on me at the hospital?” He feels vindicated when Derek blanches at his cutting tone. ' _Yeah, see how you like that buddy boy_!'  
  


Derek scrubs a hand behind his neck, running his fingers through his hair as he sighs, walking up to stand behind Isaac's abandoned seat. “When you came here. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to act like such an asshole. I just…  _panicked_ because I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Laura hadn’t told me.”  
  


He needs to hold his ground, needs to show that he won’t back down from his-“That still doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding me.” Stiles can’t help but ask in a hurt tone. Forget holding his ground, Stiles just wants an explanation if he can get it. “If I didn’t now any better I’d swear that you hated me or something!”  
  


He almost jumps out of his skin when Derek sits down and grabs his hand, squeezing when he says. “I don’t!” Derek declares so fiercely that Stiles is taken aback. Stiles stares wide eyed into Derek’s intense eyes and feels a bit light headed. He can’t even blame the alcohol cause he’s only had 2 glasses of champagne! Urgh, he is stupidly gone on Derek Hale. Lydia was right. _Again_. Dammit!   
  


"I don’t hate you. It’s the other way around." Derek insists in a softer voice, ducking his head down to stare at his knees. "At the hospital… I might have been drunk but I still remember thinking that you looked… And later I was really embarrassed about how I acted. It wasn't exactly the best first impression. So when I saw you back then it was…" Stiles watches him run a hand through his hair, clearly agitated and struggling with his words before he ploughs on. "I just didn’t know how to approach you but it really wasn’t because I hated you or anything like that."  
  


With a hopeful half-smile, Stiles asks. “Yeah?” His heart is beating so loud that he thinks it’s very possible for everyone in a five feet radius to hear it. There's no way the people nearby could miss it. A voice in his head is screaming at him to not be too hopeful or to expect too much but come on. There’s this really hot guy holding his hand and insisting that he got flustered because of _Stiles_  and looks like he might die or something if Stiles goes home thinking the wrong thing.   
  


"You’re still kind of an asshole though." Stiles points out because he simply must. Derek needs to know that his actions were wrong and heh, there’s that frown again. "Just fyi." He adds cheekily, shifting so that he can knock his knees against Derek’s.  
  


Derek smirks and something explodes in Stiles’ head. Most of his brain functions screech to a halt, brain cells collide, angels are singing somewhere off in the distance or maybe it’s a devil wearing a sexy red dress crooning about seduction on stage because Derek Hale smirking is like sex on legs. And Stiles want in on those pants. “Takes one to know one.” Derek retorts, still smirking like an evil, sexy bastard when he stands up and pulls Stiles up along with him.  
  


With a tiny gulp, Stiles follows after Derek to the dance floor and hopes that his wobbly legs won’t give out. He comes really close to it when Derek presses them close together, (Gah! Derek’s chest feels even nicer when it’s pressed against his own! Stiles thinks that his brain might leak of his ears. Or his dick if and when they ever got totally naked together) slips an arm around his waist and begins to sway.   
  


"I really kinda hate you." Stiles complains weakly, brain offering several medical reasons why he’s got weak knees and numb fingers. His damned heart simply sighs and chin hands while it coos, ‘I’m in love with these arms’. Damn his heart.  
  


Derek’s stubble creates a delightful friction that shoots down to his dick when he leans in to whisper, “The feeling’s mutual.” 


End file.
